


Tag

by oldgodbaby



Series: Vir Banal'Ras [1]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Solavellan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 21:38:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3149357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldgodbaby/pseuds/oldgodbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Every time Solas took down a target, he’d find a way to touch Lavellan, to attract her attention and, in a way, keep score. It was always small touches, nothing noticeable, fingers barely coming into contact with one of Sasha’s shoulders, or the back of her neck, or the core of her palm. It lit her skin on fire."</p><p>Fun times with the elf nerds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tag

Realizing a blast of lighting she had directed towards an enemy on the battlefield was completely useless, as they had fallen over mere seconds earlier as a result of an arrow in the eye, was not a pleasant discovery for Lavellan.

“Fenhedis! Sera!”

“Too slow!” was the response that blared in her ears as the rogue whizzed past her onto her next target.

Muttering under her breath, Sasha turned her attention to a particularly menacing red templar who was holding her nearly impenetrable shield high against the onslaught of magic she expected from the Inquisitor. Yet Sasha was planning no more than a simple curse. Something to make the templar’s skin crawl, to make her panic so she’d drop her shield and run, allowing Sasha to give chase. It was her favourite part.

Before she even had a chance to cast the spell however, the templar was knocked on her side by a well positioned stone fist, giving Cassandra room to slay her rather effortlessly.

Lavellan reared on Solas who was regarding her with a smug expression, and stalked up to him, failing to intimidate as she wanted to.

“This is not a competition, Solas.”

“Certainly not, Inquisitor. It was a battle, and there are many more to come. Would you prefer it if I did not use my magic at all?”

She took another step towards him, standing close enough to feel to his breath on her face. She could have kissed him if she had wanted to. She doubted their company would enjoy the display however.

“Fine, turn this into a contest,” Sasha whispered, her smirk now matching his own, “But be warned, hedge mage, I rarely lose.”

He kept his tone low when he replied.

“I never lose, lethallan.”

Solas allowed his hand to trace across the small of Lavellan’s back as he moved fluidly around her and rejoined their other companions, wearing his general air of nonchalance like a comfortable mask.

Sera fell back to Sasha’s side as they pressed on through the emerald graves.

“I missed something back there between you and Mr Pride of the Elvhen. Explain.”

“We decided it was a competition after all. Well, I did. He accepted. The person who has killed the most templars by the time we set up camp for the night wins.”

“So do I get to sit on that throne of yours for a day if I put the most arrows through people?”

“They would have to be fatal arrows, Sera.”

The rogue looked positively shocked.

“Take it back! My arrows are always fatal, yeah?”

Sasha’s brown eyes shone with delight.

“Deal.”

“Do love it when you get like this,” Sera replied with a wink.

Unsurprisingly, Cassandra refused to take part in the game.

***

At first, Lavellan was surprised by Solas’s proximity to her when they engaged another group of templars. Surely there was no need for him to be so close, as she would be able to see him taking down targets from miles away. It did not take long for him to make his purpose clear however, leaving the Inquisitor more confused about what she had gotten herself into than ever before.

Every time Solas took down a target, he’d find a way to touch Lavellan, to attract her attention and, in a way, keep score. It was always small touches, nothing noticeable, fingers barely coming into contact with one of Sasha’s shoulders, or the back of her neck, or the core of her palm. It lit her skin on fire. Thus, after her third successful kill she upped the ante and infused her own hands with ice magic, enjoying the way she could feel the muscles beneath his skin protest every time she reciprocated his gestures. It soon became a complicated and dangerous game of tag with few rules and quite a bit of silent swearing.

Eventually, Sasha snuck a glance at Solas’s face to check whether or not she had pushed the whole endeavour too far. She never did know when to stop and she began to worry that he would think her childish. After all, he had berated his own decisions in the fade on the grounds of being too rash and impulsive; as if that was in any way a bad thing.

He met her gaze and she almost bit her tongue. He wasn’t smiling – it wouldn’t have been appropriate given their circumstances – but she had never seen him look happier or more alive than at that very moment. Her cheeks grew warm, and she was certain that, beneath her vallaslin, they rivalled the colour of her hair. Sasha turned her head away before she gave into her impulses and tackled him to the ground.

***

It turned out that Cassandra had won the competition by a fairly wide margin, since she had ended up taking most of the killing blows.

“Not fair though, is it? I wear them down, you lob their heads off, you win, and you weren’t even taking part!”

“A battlefield is no place for games, Sera,” Cassandra replied, shooting the Inquisitor a scolding but amused glance; there was a small smile underneath all that frowning. “Besides, was I to wait around until you corrected your aim?”

“Shut it, you!”

The argument continued as Solas walked up to Sasha and tapped her on the shoulder, this time in a far more serious manner.

Sasha did not look at him, instead turning on her heel and moving past him, playfully bumping his arm with her own as she walked out of earshot of the other two women.

Once she was satisfied with her position she turned and grinned up at him as noticed he had followed her without question.

“What was it you said, lethallin, that you,” she put on her best Solas voice, “never lose?”

“If my memory serves, you did not win either.”

“Yes, but rarely implies I sometimes lose, especially when formidable warrior ladies belonging to dragon hunting families from Nevarra are involved.”

“That is a specific exception.”

“It is one of the few I have.”

They drifted almost unconsciously incredibly close to one another, as they often did, but this time Sasha wasn’t particularly willing to back down. She could still feel his touch on the back of her neck.

“So tell me, hedge mage, what would happen if I were to just…” Lavellan’s eyes fell to Solas’s mouth then quickly moved back up as if caught in an illicit act.

The end of her question took up very obvious space in the silence between them.

Solas seemed taken aback and in a handful of seconds his expression changed from completely enraptured to stern and controlled.

“It would be a risk,” he did not sound all too convinced himself.

“You’re not making this any less tempting.”

“Then accept that it is a risk for another day, Inquisitor.”

Just like that, they were back on formal ground, where she was little more than a title, a tool for the masses with a strange power, and he her advisor and occasional companion through these trying times. 

Before he could leave, she found her voice for one last request.

“Just…when that day comes, if it comes…let me know. Make it clear; I am terrible at reading cues.”

At least she got him to smile.


End file.
